


By A Neon Star

by bubbleslayer



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleslayer/pseuds/bubbleslayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctoral candidate Blair Sandburg hasn't given up all hope of finding a Sentinel, but he's getting desperate.  So he makes a wish on the only star he can see on Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By A Neon Star

**Author's Note:**

> Orignally written for a Moonridge Auction and never posted online. At least, I don't remember posting it anywhere.

Blair walked down the street, marveling at the snow that was coming down. Christmas in Cascade usually meant rain, hell, every holiday in Cascade meant rain, but not this year.

Thanks to a cold front out of Canada, and winds from the north, not the west, there was snow. Lots and lots of snow.

The white stuff had made those already in the holiday spirit even more excited. He wished he could be that excited, but he wasn’t. He had a proverbial case of the holiday blues.

He was on semester break which left him with little to do. He could be spending all his free time working on his dissertation, but just the thought of the paper he had to write made his depression worsen.

He’d had the subject for his diss picked out since he was twelve years old and a Sioux friend of his mother’s had told him the legend of the tribal watchmen known as Sentinels. Sentinels were people with enhanced senses who guided and guarded the tribe in most aspects of tribal life. The myth had fascinated his young mind and he’d begun to search for other references to the guardians. By the time he’d found a book on the subject by the noted explorer Sir Richard Burton he was well and truly obsessed. His logical, and admittedly gifted, mind had made the leap that these people were not myths, they were real, and still existed today.  
Even though he was only 26 years old, it was safe to say that finding a modern day Sentinel had been his life’s work.

But now, all these years later, he was being forced to admit that while he’d managed to find people with one or two heightened senses, he was never going to find someone with all five. Not in the industrialized world anyway, which was the whole point of his paper. Sentinels as modern day guardians of the world.

Sadly, just before the end of the semester he’d met with his adviser and had been told that he needed to have a new subject ready to submit in January. He didn’t doubt that he could come up with something, something based on some minor aspect of the Sentinel legend that he’d already researched, something that would allow to appease his advisers and allow him to finish the paper in record time. But it felt like he'd be betraying who he was and who he wanted to be. He’d been focused on this subject for fourteen years, almost half his life. Changing his topic now was tantamount to cutting off a limb.

He signed and took stock of his surroundings for the first time in several blocks. He discovered he was about a mile from his apartment. It wasn't the best area of town, but not the worst either. He was shocked to find that he was the only person out and about. But it was Christmas Eve after all, and it seemed even Cascade's 'undesirables' had somewhere else to be. Oh, he’d been invited to a few parties, or to the family homes of friends, but he’d declined all offers. He knew he’d just bring any party down. No, he was better off alone tonight.

He looked up at the sky, hoping to find a star to wish upon. A star that would grant him his greatest wish, a Sentinel. He laughed at himself when all he got was snow in his eyes. He shook his head, it was snowing steadily, why on earth did he think he’d be able to see the stars?

He looked around again to get his bearings, deciding it was probably best to head back to his warehouse apartment - when he saw it. A star. Granted, it was a neon star, on a liquor sign in the window of a bar, but hey. He’d looked for a star, and he’d found one. It had to be fate.

He focused on that star and whispered the old childhood rhyme to himself, "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”

“All I want is a Sentinel. Just one. Please?”

His wishing completed, Blair started down the block towards the bar. He figured his karma would be helped out if he went in and had a glass of whatever beverage the star advertised. At the very least, he could warm up. He hated being cold and wet. He did a double take and laughed out loud as he got close enough to see that the sign was hawking Starbright Vodka. Heh.

Pulling open the door to the bar, called Rusty’s according to the sign over the door, he shook the snow off of his shoulders and hair. The interior of the place was dark, and thanks to the brightness of the snow outside his eyes needed a few seconds to adjust. The place was your typical hole in the wall bar, but it was dressed up with a decorated tree and multi-colored lights strung along every surface. A TV hung over the bar itself, playing 'A Christmas Story' without sound, and 'Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree' was pumping out of the jukebox. There were booths along one wall, a few tables in the middle, and a row of stools at the horseshoe bar. The booths and tables were empty, but there were three men sitting at the bar, and a bartender cleaning glasses behind it.

All four men turned to look as he walked in the door, and despite the fact that he’d never been in the place before, they all smiled. Must be the holiday spirit he thought to himself. He was pretty sure that on any other day of the year a short, long haired, Jewish hippy would not be welcome in this blue collar sanctuary.

He smiled back and walked over to take a stool near to the end, closest to the door. He started a little when he realized that there was actually a fourth customer at the bar, sitting in the shadows created by the corner of the bar and the wall. He took his seat, keeping two empty stool between himself and the stranger, and waited for the bartender to take his order. He glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye and although he couldn't see him clearly he couldn’t help but think that the man looked sad. Not depressed like Blair was, well and truly sad.

The bartender came over and he ordered a double shot of Starbright Vodka, on the rocks.

While he waited for his drink he took a closer look at his surroundings, or more accurately, his bar mates.

Two of the men sat at the other end of the bar, quoting the movie that was playing, apparently not caring that the volume was off.

The third man was half way between Blair and the others, and was obviously well into his cups. He waived an unsteady hand at the bartender and after the man dropped off Blair’s vodka he placed a glass of what looked to be whiskey on the rocks in front of him. The man sipped the drink and stared at himself in the mirror behind the bar. Blair gave half a thought to saying something, anything, to him since he looked so alone, but as he drew a breath the bartender caught his eye and shook his head. Blair took the hint and took a silent sip of his own drink.

The vodka was about as smooth as burlap. It burned his throat and made his eyes water. He made a valiant effort to keep from coughing, but lost, giving two short, quiet hacks. He glanced around but it didn’t look like the others had noticed. He turned to the man beside him and was surprised to find his eyes locked onto pale blue ice.

Initially, he’d thought the man had looked sad, but now that he’d seen his eyes, the word that came to mind was wounded. Although he was a complete stranger, Blair felt without a doubt that his man carried a wound on his soul. The man didn’t speak, didn’t smile, just nodded his head once and turned back to the glass in his hand.

Blair had absolutely no idea what this man’s problems were, but somehow, it made him feel very petty about his own depression. Were things really that bad?

He would finish his dissertation, and he’d get to add those three letters to the end of his name. He’d be able to teach, or run expeditions, or write. He still had his whole life ahead of him. So what if he couldn’t write his dissertation on Sentinels? That didn’t mean he had to give up on the subject altogether. Once he’d gotten his letters, he could keep searching, really make it his life’s work.

He took another, larger, sip of his drink, and since he was prepared this time it went down easier.

So, if not Sentinels, then what? He had tons of research on guardians, he just needed to find one aspect of it that he could rework to give him something presentable.

He looked at the man again, hoping to catch his eyes, maybe spread a little of this new found optimism, but the man was solely focused on his now empty glass. If Blair hadn’t been able to see his chest moving he’d have worried the guy was dead. But he was breathing, and since he seemed oblivious, Blair took the opportunity to give him a complete once over.

He looked to be mid to late 30’s. Thinning brown hair that was cut military short. He was wearing a hunter green dress shirt, khakis, and hiking boots. Blair stopped his perusal when he noticed the handcuffs attached to the back of the man’s belt. So, the guy was a cop. He didn’t see a gun, but then, it was illegal to bring a loaded gun into a bar, unless you were on duty, and he was pretty sure this guy wasn’t on duty.

So, he was a cop, with a wounded soul, who drank alone in a crappy bar on Christmas Eve. Well, Blair really couldn’t say anything to that. After all, he was a student/teacher with a bruised soul who drank alone in a crappy bar on Christmas Eve. He couldn’t help but wonder though, why this man wasn’t being taken care of by his brothers and sisters in blue. In his research on Sentinels he’s looked at the police, military, and firefighters because he believed that if there were in fact modern day Sentinels they’d be drawn to careers that involved protecting others. One thing he’d found they had in common was that all three had pretty strict codes about this sort of thing. Once you were in you were part of a larger whole, no longer alone. You were family.

Blair took his third and final mouthful of the vodka, draining the glass, and somewhere between his swallowing and the glass hitting the bar he felt a light go off over his head to rival the star over Bethlahem.

That was it! Closed societies. He could see about getting access to the Cascade PD, or maybe the fire department. He could document the requirements to enter the society, the rituals inherent to it, the differences amoung the ranks…..

He jumped off his stool and was surprised to find himself a little unsteady, the vodka having gone straight to his head. He stumbled to the side a little and brushed against the man who’d been his unknowing inspiration. He mumbled an apology and patted the guy firmly on the back.

He jumped a little when the guy suddenly lifted his head and turned to stare at him. He looked confused and more than a little bit angry.

Blair shrugged and apologized again. He pulled out his wallet and laid a $20 on the bar. He nodded to the bartender and headed for the door. When he was halfway out he turned back and saw that once again all eyes were on him. Even the guy in the corner was looking at him.

“Merry Christmas everyone.”

He didn’t stick around to find out if the sentiment was returned. That wasn’t the point. He hurried down the street towards home, he had a paper to get started….

End 


End file.
